The Dangerous Dance
by Mooleg
Summary: When Sherlock rudely rejects Molly's request for a Sadie Hawkins Dance date, John takes it upon himself to give him a piece of his mind. Teenlock! BoyxBoy! Eventual Smut!
1. The Proposal

_It is too damn early to be awake_. Sandy blonde hair spread out over the cool plastic desk, OUR DASHING PROTAGONIST WHO TOTALLY ISN'T GAY shut his eyes, a grumble erupting from his mouth. A sharp beep came from the ceiling, forcing the junior to prop himself on his elbows. A steady male voice crackled through the speakers, _yes, I know what day it is… no, I don't give a shit._ A woman's voice came through:  
"Hello students! Principal Adler speaking, I am proud to announce the first dance of the semester!"

_No, SHIT no!_, his hands coated his face as a groan escaped the cracks between his fingers.  
"Now, boys, don't get any ideas just yet,"  
_don't try to be funny; it doesn't work  
_"But this will be a Sadie Hawkins Dance!"_  
what?  
_"What that means, is the _ladies_ get to ask out the males!"  
_fuckingnowhy_, his head rolled over to his friend, Molly, whose brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, her eyes bright and a smile pulling her cheeks up. _Shit she's excited for this stupid thing. _

"Someone looks like she knows who she wants to ask" He looked over and pinched his eyes shut, preparing for the usual rant of hardly English excitement that came with Molly.  
"There's this guy, in my chemistry class and, yes, before you say anything, he is a freshman, but he's so smart, and so mysterious, and so attractive." She continues talking about how great this guy is; it's borderline obsessive.  
"Molly," she stops midword and turns her head, "Does this guy have a name atleast?"  
"John," she pauses, as shock comes onto her face, "no, not you, I mean Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."  
John laughs into his fist, "Sherlock? What is he, from the 1600s?"  
"Hey!" she frowned, suddenly defensive, "I like him and so I'm allowed to ask him!"  
_oh bother, _He sniggered and turned to pretend to pay attention.

* * *

When lunch time rolled around all of the girls were separated into small herds, each giggling about who they would ask, who was taken, and whose butt was the cutest. John rolled his eyes as he sat on his usual bench, _at least Molly knew exactly who she wanted to ask._ He pulled out a homemade sandwich and took a large bite. Chewing, he glanced over to one of the hallways, two figures catching his eye.  
He put down his sandwich and crept over, a distinct voice stuttered, "H-hey, Sherlock."  
John immediately knew what was happening and urged to get a peak.  
"Oh! Molly! What are you doing outside of the Biology Hall? Can't be for school, since the only class you care about is Biology. Can't be for lunch, since you eat when you get home. Judging by the hurried lipstick, I'd say you're on your way to impress someone, maybe a boyfriend? No, couldn't be, you never wear lipstick, why start now? So, you must be trying to impress someone new, maybe a teacher? Maybe a fellow student?"  
_what a git,_ John watched as the mop-headed boy spoke far too fast and far too confidently for a freshman. _Correction: arrogant git_.

"I, uh, yeah? I was wondering if maybe you'd perhaps-"  
"Molly, please do be quick I have important experiments to attend to."  
"Sadie Hawkins dance, would you be my date?"

Sherlock readjusted his then stoic body position to cross his arms. He inhaled slowly calculating. _Is he actually thinking about this? A junior asking a freshman? He would be daft NOT to accept._  
"It's not normal for upperclassmen to 'ask out' underclassmen, and, while I personally don't believe with a mouth that small anyone would say yes, you should ask someone older, at least the same age. Now can I please be on my way?"  
She was silent, mouth agap, trying to form words. _Who the hell does he think he is?_  
"Now, now, keeping your mouth open doesn't make it seem larger. I must be off. Experiments to run," he turned on his heels and took long strides down the hall, out of sight.

John sprung out of his hiding spot and dashed toward his friend.

"What an arrogant sod! No man should ever talk to a lady like that," an idea bubbled in his mind, "I'm going to make him apologize." He ran off down the hall, not sure where he was going, but damn if he wasn't going to find the bastard.

* * *

A/N: A friend of mine gave me the prompt of a Sadie Hawkins Dance, so I'm running with it. If there's anything that seems OOC or anything seems weird, please tell me! Anything helps!


	2. The Apology

Totally forgot this last time: I do not own Sherlock

* * *

Chapter 2: The Apology

_Everyone is an idiot, _Sherlock ran a finger through the loose curls as he stepped into the chemistry classroom. The sickly sweet smells of chemicals mixing together in the air made him feel at home. Strapping a pair of goggles on his head and slipping a lap coat on, he made his way to his current set of test tubes. Notepad left open on the counter, pen right next to it, pipette in one hand, he took a deep breath.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the door sprang open, _mannered enough to knock_, Sherlock turned around to see a teen, not much older than him. Sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular, _natural muscle? Body building? Sports, soreness implies a rough sport.  
_ "How long have you been doing rugby?"

The teen stared back at him, eyes showed shock while the rest of his face tried to be angry.

"Your movements imply you're quite sore, grass stained shoes imply outdoor sport. So, outdoor sport with high activity? Rugby."

Quick exhalation, annoyance, _good_. "Since freshman year, but that's beside the point. Who the HELL do you think you are?"

He stayed silent; he wanted to observe for now. _Tattered jumper, but nice coat. Must be a gift or hand me down, jumpers too big, must be a hand-me-down, but can't be from an older brother, they would still be able to wear it, must be from a father figure. Light ink stains on left hand, left handed. _  
"What give you the right to be so rude to a woman?"

"Molly can hardly be considered a woman; female growth doesn't fully end until the age of 22. And I wouldn't consider myself rude, I was just telling the truth. If she asked you, you wouldn't have said yes, would you?"  
The older teen shifted his weight, clearing his throat, _checkmate_. "Actually, I would." _There's a condition, there has to be_.

Sherlock pulled the goggles off of his head, he started to remove the coat, "You would do it under a condition though, you wouldn't go as a date, no change in pulse, dead giveaway. No, you're only saying that so I can be wrong, you would go as friends though. " He placed the coat on a chair and took a few steps closer to the other teen. "Would you specify it though? Would she know you were just friends or would you tell her after the fact when she tried to make a move on you? Why would you let her hang on to a false sense of security, just to let her down anyway?" He stared into the others eyes, until the older teen turned away. _Vaporized deodorant, frustration_. Silence. _Heart rate has raised. Interesting._

"You're cute," the older teen looked right at Sherlock and continued, "You think you know so much don't you? Let me tell you something, while you may feel entitled being in high school, you're not. You know nothing about anyone."

Sherlock sucked air in his mouth and closed his eyes, "You're sexually frustrated, but that comes with puberty and your best friend being a woman. You want a relationship, but you aren't quite sure how to deal with women. Maybe it's because your penis does the thinking for you, more likely you're trying to figure out your sexuality. Your jumper is loose and tattered, couldn't be from an older brother, far too old and too loose. So must be from a father, but why do you have it? Old army patch on your pack, probably from a grandfather, so father probably went into the army as well, so while he's in army clothes, you're wearing his old jumpers."

"That…was amazing," the teen smiled and laughed. _Nice smile…_

For once, Sherlock was speechless, "I-uh-what?" _heart race increasing?_

"That…thing you did, telling my life story but what's in front of you. How do you do it?" the older teen leaned on a table and looked up expectantly.  
"I- thank you. It's just observing, nothing big," Sherlock's hand shot to the back of his head and scratched, a smile coming onto his face.

"I see, got to keep some things secret," a laugh that really is just exhaling come out of his mouth, he sticks his hand out to Sherlock, "John Watson, sorry for yelling at you."

Sherlock takes his hand, _So warm…_ "Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet a less-angry you." _That wasn't English you twit.  
_ "I do have one question though, how could you possibly known about," John's eyes glance at the door for a second, "my sexuality?"

"Lucky guess," there was a brief beat of silence before the two burst out into laughter. Without even thinking about it, they both pulled out their mobile phones to program themselves into the others phone. _Far too trusting for someone he's just met…for too trusting for someone I've just met…_

* * *

A/N: Writing for Sherlock is so hard. :I


	3. The Friendship

I do not own Sherlock, etc.

* * *

Chapter 3: The Friendship

John had turned towards the door to leave. He gripped onto the doorframe as he turned back. His mouth opened as if to say something, but instead stared as the taller teens slipped the goggles back over his eyes and the lab coat over his shoulders. His long fingers gently slipped the buttons through the slits. _I can see why Molly fancies him_. The thought popped into his head for just a second before he shook it away.  
"Do you need something?" Sherlock turned, dark curls bouncing in front of his eyes. "Or are you just here to ogle?"

John felt his ears burn up, "I-uh-," _damn my emotions_. He cleared his throat and continued, "I actually came to get you to apologize to Molly."

Sherlock's eyes rolled and settled back on John, "Why would I need to apologize?" A frown appeared on John's face, "I was only telling the truth."

"Can you just do it?" Sherlock remained stoic, John sighed and pleaded, "Please?" A silence hung in the room, the taller teen squinted his eyes in thought. "For a friend?" Sherlock's eyed widened as shock set in his face, _nailed it_.

"Friend? I don't think you understand, John, I don't have friends." Sherlock stared at John, no change in emotion or tone, as if it was a common fact. The older teen straightened his spine to appear taller, and frowned.

"I hardly think that's fair, everyone deserves at least one friend," John rubbed the toe of his sneakers into the floor and smiled. "Tell you what, I'll be your friend, IF you apologize to Molly."

Sherlock touched his finger pads together and placed his index fingers lightly on his lower lip. _Is that his thinking face?_ The younger teen's eyes closed as he sighed. _Damnit, what have I done_.

John sighed, "Look, just apologize-"

Sherlock's hand shot up, palm facing John, "Shut up, I need to think." The hand returned to where it belonged. _What have I gotten into? Little shit thinks he owns the fucking place. _A eon of silence seemed to pass before Sherlock's eyes shot open. "John," he gripped onto the shorter teen's shoulders, "I deleted friendship."

John's expression was totally blank, "what?"

"I will apologize to Molly, promise me you'll show me how to friendship." Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly, more in desperation than anger. _This kid is fucking weird._

"Yeah, yes, alright then." John looked into the taller teen's eyes, _does he not have a sense of personal space?_ A smile grew on Sherlock's face.

"I'll send you a text," the taller teen nodded and went back to his work. John stared as those bouncy black curls swished along the other teen's neck. _Friendship, that's all he wants. Forget it, John._

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and sorry it's so short. I'm planning on having longer chapters, maybe. Don't trust me.


	4. The Textdos

Still don't own Sherlock

* * *

Chapter 4: The Textdos

_Five minutes until class starts._ Ice cold eyes looked over at the clock, the lanky teen slumped into his chair. _I have some time…_

He pulled his phone out of his pockets.

**New text: John Watson  
How should I go about this apology?  
SH**

**Message Sent**

Something about the light clack of the keys calmed Sherlock, which foiled the mild irritation that came from the vibration.

**Message Received: John Watson  
I don't know. Say you're sorry for being an arrogant git?**

**New text: John Watson**

**Should I do anything though? Don't apologies usually come with some sort of an action?**

**SH**

**Message Sent**

Sherlock shut his eyes, expecting a reply to take a while, only to be interrupted by a buzz in his pocket.

**Message Received: John Watson**

**Don't be weird about it. Just, apologize and MEAN IT.**

Before Sherlock could open a next text, his phone tingled in his hands.

**Message Received: John Watson**

**Tell you what, tell me what you want to say, and I'll tell you if you're wrong.**

The teen smirked at the screen, fingers prepared to type a reply. However, his smirk fell as the words failed to leave his brain and jump to the screen.

**New Text: John Watson**

**Something like, "I apologize for rebuffing you so harshly. Forgive me, Molly Hooper."**

**SH**

**Message Sent**

Sherlock didn't even waste the time to put the phone back in his pocket, knowing it would vibrate in a few seconds.

**Message Received: John Watson**

**Yes. Fine. Good. Remember, don't…make it worse.**

**New Text: John Watson**

**Come home with me after school.  
SH**

**Message Unsent**

His finger hovered over the sent button, the discordant jingle of the bell causing him to shove the phone into his pocket. As Molly walked in, Sherlock sent a smile, she merely glanced and walked towards an empty table and sat alone.

* * *

Without Molly's constant rants, Sherlock learned how boring Chemistry could be. He was levels above what this class was teaching and he knew everything. It was only when the teacher had ended class early, a few minutes before the bell had excused them that his brain booted up again. He straightened his body as he stood up, reminiscent of a fawn learning how to walk. A white fist lightly knocked on the table, and Molly's brown pony tail exploded in movement as her head shot up. Her mouth wide open from shock, but quickly fell to a straight line when her eyes rested on Sherlock's face.

He knelt down beside her. "I apologize for rebuffing you so harshly," his hand wanted to tremble as he rested it on her shoulder, "Please, forgive me, Molly Hooper." He let his hand slide off of her shoulder as he stood up. _How do you know when someone has forgiven you?_

Molly started to giggle, "Did John put you up to this?" _She really is smarter then she lets on_.

Sherlock straightened his button down shirt, "He confronted me, yes."

Her hand rested on his shoulder, "I'll get over it, he doesn't need to worry about me. And you don't need to apologize, it's all the truth."

Sherlock frowned, "Molly Hooper, someone out there feels for you. You'll see."

They shared smiles as the bell dismissed the class.

* * *

John Watson peeked through the door, _why the hell am I watching this kid apologize? Shouldn't I be in class? Why do I find stalking Sherlock Holmes more important than my grades?_ He watched as the lanky git waltzed over to Molly, subtle got her attention. _Grabbing her shoulder? Nice touch._ As they continued to talk, John felt his heart warm.

John turned away from the door, a smile crept onto his face _maybe he isn't such an arrogant git._ The halls filled with students and John pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, a new message stared back at him.

**Message Received: Sherlock Holmes**

**Come home with me after school.**

**SH**

_ Fucking tit._ John shook his head and grinned.

**New Text: Sherlock Holmes**

**How- nevermind.**

**Good job on not being a dick with Molly**

**JW**

**Message Sent**

* * *

Sorry that took so long. I kinda forgot I had an ongoing story. 3


End file.
